I swear, my life has been non-stop since getting a rental car last Thursday, which is a good thing since last week I totally lost my shit after being stuck in the house with no car.

Thursday I got my not-so-fabulous rental car - a red Dodge Neon. It has like no acceleration and I'm afraid it's going to get me killed driving on the freeway. It is kind of fun, though, to listen to a song with heavy bass because it totally makes the sideview mirrors shake, almost like a Tyrannosaurus rex is approaching, though I suppose it could have been the power trying to come back on.

The silly thing about the Neon is that I'm actually a little afraid of driving it. I realized the other day that I haven't had a car with a backseat since either 1993 or 1994 (my last three cars have been two-seaters; two were convertibles and the other had t-tops), so it just seems huge. I'm such a weirdo.

Anyway, as soon as I got the rental, I headed to Wal-Mart to get some shopping done since I needed Diet Cherry Cokes and some postcards to send to Flickr. I made out like a bandit there since I got four twelve packs of Coke, two pairs of boxer shorts (which is work clothing for me since I work from home), two pairs of shoes, some jeans, a purse, shampoo, conditioner, and some groceries for $100.

My parents, my brother, my aunt, and I usually go eat dinner somewhere about once a week and Friday my dad told me I could pick the restaurant since I usually don't get to which really made me happy. I chose Pei Wei since I hadn't been there in a very long time. Food was delicious and we all stuffed ourselves. Mmmmm. Mongolian beef.

After hanging out at Russell's apartment for a little bit, we went home and I was contemplating slipping into a food coma when my phone rang. It was my friend Johanna asking me if I'd left yet. I had no idea what she was talking about until she pointed out that the show at The Continental Club that I thought was the next day was actually starting. Ooops. I quickly touched up my make-up, threw on some clothes, and ran out the door, arriving at The Continental Club at exactly the same time as Johanna.

The first band was Two Hoots and a Holler, a mostly rockabilly group who also play some mean cover songs. Their guitarist was so incredible and they had a really hot girl on drums who fucking rocked. I was a percussionist in high school and one of only three girls to march a drum in four years at both my high school and the sister school across the way, so I'm always pleased to see a girl on drums. I liked them so much I bought one of their CDs and would definitely recommend catching them live if you get a chance.

Next up was Guy Forsyth, which is actually the reason that Marc, Irfan, Rod, Michelle, Johanna, a few other people, and I went to the club to begin with. Guy is Irfan's total hero/boy crush and he's a huge groupie, so an opportunity to see Guy is never missed.

Guy was really good, but after about two hours of him on top of the other band, I was ready to give my ears a break and get out of there. I was also starving, so Marc and I took off for an early morning breakfast at Katz's where I got my usual of French Fries and French toast. I know it sounds weird, but trust me, it's delicious.

By the time we got done eating and I got back to my side of town (Oh, how I hate living in the suburbs!), it was about 3:45, making it close to 5:00 in the morning before I even got the bed.

The next day I worked for a few hours and then headed out to the Heights to meet Irfan and Marc at someone's house for a pre-Pride Parade party. Jess was there too, so I got to see her briefly before heading over to the parade.

This was my first Pride Parade and I loved every minute of it. It's probably cheesy, but I was so proud of everyone that marched or even came out. I hate how this country is becoming more and more dominated by the conservatives and religious right and to stand up and be proud of who you are is wonderful. I clapped and cheered for each person that walked past me, taking pictures the whole time.

I don't have any of them up at Flickr yet except for this one, which seems to sum up everything the parade was about. I can never understand why people get so upset if someone's gay. There's not enough love in the world as it is, so why deny it when two people are lucky enough to find each other?

After the parade, we all went to JR's Bar & Grill for a drink and to get out of the heat. It's hard to believe, but that was my first time in a gay bar. How have I never been in a gay bar before? Melissa and I loved it, not least of all because of the fabulous apple martinis, so hopefully we'll be back there soon.

Next on the list was drinking and dart playing at Dog House Tavern. When we got there, it was dead, but soon some very drunk/high people including, apparently, a pro bowler (WTF? That's what they said the one guy was, but surely that couldn't have been right) showed up to liven the place up.

I swear, if I was a lesbian, I would never want for a date since no less than four girls came over to hang out with me, all of them proclaiming that I was hot. This doesn't even include the incredibly sexy girl at the parade that wanted to give me her number. I guess if I'm ever in need of an ego boost, Westheimer is the place to go.

When the place shut down, I was starving, so Marc, Irfan, Josh, Melissa, and I went to Late Night Pie for some pizza. Man, it was good. It's not as good as Frank's or Romano's in my opinion, but neither of them are open at 3:00 am either. After dinner, a quick stop at the store, and the drive home, it was a little after 4:30 before I got home.

Is it obvious that I was glad to get out of the house this weekend? ;-)

.: 1129 words at 01:32 AM in Fish Tales, ";print substr($entry_cats, 0, -2); ?> :: Link :: Pings (0) :: All the Voices Say... (8) :.

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Last week Mikey asked which is normal: If your second toe is longer than your big toe or vice versa. Turns out that if your second toe is longer, it's a forefoot disorder called Morton's Toe and can lead to foot pain.

I actually had no idea which way my feet were, so I immediately took a look and my second toe is definitely longer, very much so on my left foot. No wonder my damn feet always hurt.

So now I'm curious. Who else has Morton's Toe? Surely I'm not the only strange footed blogger out there.

On a random side note, any time someone says that they have nice feet (I think mine are kind of nice), I always hear this Geena Davis and Michael Keaton exchange from Speechless in my head:

Julia: You have nice feet.
Kevin: Well, you know. I work out.

Thinking of that always cracks me up.

.: 153 words at 11:08 PM in Fish Tales, ";print substr($entry_cats, 0, -2); ?> :: Link :: Pings (0) :: All the Voices Say... (12) :.

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About a month ago, a contact on Flickr by the screen name of luvforboobies (classy, no?), using usaforever@hotmail.com as their e-mail address, sent me a some Flickr mail about how he thought my boobs were beautiful and we should talk.

I mailed him back saying I don't use Flickr to try and pick up people that want to talk about my boobs, so thanks, but no thanks. He kept mailing me saying that he had a big cock (yeah, right) and finally I sent him mail to please stop contacting me. He did, until yesterday when he poppped back up asking me to post more "boobie" pictures.

I told him again to leave me alone and then got "i will if you send me one boobie pic. just one hun. Do this boobie loving guy a favor; btk7@hotmail.com" I finally told him to fuck off which got me, "nope, I won't... i wanna lick your boobies."

That was the final straw, so I reported him to Flickr for sexual harassment and told him I had done so and was probably going to contact Hotmail as well. His reply to that? "i dont give a fuck bitch. I like big boobs and you got em... so send some pics and cut the shit."

What the hell is wrong with this guy? What makes him think that he's entitled to half-naked pictures of me? Maybe I should never have replied back in the first place, but I assumed, foolishly I guess, that if I told someone to leave me alone that they would. I absolutely love Flickr and it sucks that every time I get new mail there my first thought is to wonder if it's more shit from that asshole. Maybe I'm making a bigger deal out of it than I should be, but I find it abusing and upsetting to repeatedly get mail from this creep.

Like I said, I've reported him to Flickr, but does anyone know if there's a way to block someone from sending you mail in the meantime? I shouldn't have to take that from him.

.: 351 words at 01:40 PM in Fish Tales, ";print substr($entry_cats, 0, -2); ?> :: Link :: Pings (0) :: All the Voices Say... (12) :.

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